Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Chapter 122 Wall's Struggle, Clearing the Clouds to Reveal the Moon

Ten nautical miles outside the Siren's Anvil.

The massive Brotherhood armed merchant ship, like a silent steel behemoth, lay quietly moored amidst the thick fog and waves.

The cannons on the ship had all been stripped of their covers, their dark muzzles pointing directly at the deadly sea swallowed by darkness ahead, ready to unleash their destructive fury at any moment.

However, the atmosphere on the entire ship was so oppressive that it was almost suffocating.

Inside the captain's cabin, the dim kerosene lamp flickered in the sea breeze, casting distorted shadows of everyone on the bulkhead.

Wall sat quietly behind the large oak table, a cup of black tea that had long since gone cold in front of him.

This second-tier "Tearer," infamous in the southern continent colonies and capable of deciding the life and death of countless people with a mere gesture, appeared unusually silent at this moment.

He stretched out his calloused hands, which had torn apart countless high-level alien species, picked up the cup of red tea, and took a small sip.

"Clang, clang—"

The faint clinking of porcelain echoed in the quiet cabin.

That's Wall's hand shaking.

The rim of the teacup gently tapped against his teeth; though the movement was extremely small, it truly revealed the undisguised anxiety and unease deep within him.

Cook and Ceci, the veteran escorts standing to the side, saw this scene clearly.

The two exchanged a glance, both seeing a deep unease in each other's eyes.

Cook frowned, his gray hair appearing even more weathered under the light. He took a deep breath and finally broke the silence: "Lord Wall, forgive my bluntness. To cross the Sirens' Anvil, and then navigate underwater through heavy anti-submarine nets and reefs, to assassinate a first-tier senior Baptist—this is simply a fantasy."

While that kid Xilun may have some strange talents, he is still a human being, not a fish in the sea.

In this Dead Sea, even the slightest mistake could cost him his life.

I hope Lord Wall will not have too high hopes.

Cook's words were harsh, but every word he said made sense.

As an old sea wolf who had made a living at sea for decades, he knew all too well the terror of this sea area.

After listening, Wall did not get angry, but slowly put down the teacup in his hand.

His sharp, eagle-like eyes stared intently through the cabin window at the layers of thick fog outside.

"There's still a sliver of hope."

Wall's voice was somewhat hoarse, as if he were talking to himself. Every now and then, through gaps in the thick fog, he seemed to see some illusory shadow rolling in the waves.

He turned to Cook and asked in a deep voice, "How long has it been?"

Cook immediately pulled out the brass pocket watch from his pocket, glanced at it in the light, and said in a somewhat hoarse voice, "A full hour has passed since Siron jumped off the deck."

"One hour —"

Wall silently calculated this cold number in his mind.

An hour, on land, might just be the time it takes to eat a meal or smoke a cigar.

But in that abyss twenty meters underwater, filled with extreme cold and deadly water pressure, an hour is enough to kill a strong adult dozens of times.

"If he had failed in his dive, gotten trapped in the anti-submarine nets, or encountered an undercurrent, he would have surfaced long ago and swam back for help—"

Wall silently considered all the possibilities in his mind.

"Could it be that he has truly crossed that deadly reef, infiltrated the pirate port, and is looking for an opportunity to behead someone?"

As soon as he thought of this, a glimmer of hope flashed in Wall's eyes.

But that glimmer of hope was quickly overshadowed by an even deeper gloom.

He knew all too well how powerful that old bastard Sislow was.

The captain who had been entrenched at the Siren's Anvil for years was not only ruthless with his swordsmanship, but also extremely cunning.

Even if Siren manages to infiltrate, with his stamina greatly depleted, he would struggle to even deal with the scarred first mate, let alone against a seasoned Extraordinary like Sislow who is well-rested and ready. His chances of winning would be extremely slim.

However, Sislow usually rests on the island, practicing breathing techniques and martial arts, and may not necessarily face off against Siren.

It is more likely that the attempt to cross by stealth failed.

Perhaps he didn't have enough air to return and suffocated halfway there; or perhaps something happened underwater, his throat was slashed by those mutated poisonous corals, and his body was swept into the deep sea by the undercurrents.

Thinking about this, Wall felt the air in the cabin become unusually stuffy.

He raised his hand and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead with the rough back of his hand, then crossed his hands and kept groping and rubbing them together.

The last time he felt so nervous, so powerless, and so resigned to the unknown was thirty years ago when his wife was giving birth in a makeshift delivery room during a difficult labor.

That agonizing feeling of being able to listen to screams from outside the door but being unable to do anything about it was now being replayed on this cold sea.

Cook looked at Walna's anxious expression, sighed regretfully, and said in a low voice, "I'm afraid—it's not good. Even the sea god couldn't last an hour without breathing."

Ceci, who had been silent until now, slowly shook his head.

His face, which always carried a hint of languor, was now filled with solemnity and determination.

"I don't think so." Ceci's voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear. "I've met with Xilen. Although he's young, he has a ruthless streak, and he's definitely not the kind of fool who would throw his life away without a chance."

Since he dared to make a pledge to jump, it means he has a trump card.

Perhaps he's trapped on the island now, looking for the right moment to behead him. All we can do now is trust him.

Time slipped away, bit by bit, in this suffocating wait.

The clock on the wall ticked away, each second like a dull knife cutting into everyone's nerves.

As night deepened, the sea became utterly silent, with only the occasional sound of waves lapping against the hull.

"If it had really succeeded, given his personality, he would have already given the signal."

"If he had failed—then perhaps he would already be a cold corpse."

Wall felt incredibly heavy-hearted.

Suddenly, all the pressure came crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

The young and promising life of Siren; the enormous economic losses that would result from the failure of this armed ship and the entire fleet; the inviolable dignity of the Brotherhood in the southern colonies; and the inevitable, even more frenzied retaliation and threats from the Grey Hemp Pirates—

All of this, like several mountains, pressed down on Walter's not-so-broad shoulders, making it almost impossible for him to breathe.

Just then, Cook glanced at his pocket watch again, his voice tinged with a mixture of reluctance and resolve: "Lord Wall, it's been almost two hours. For the safety of the fleet, we can't wait blindly any longer. When—will we consider turning back?"

Upon hearing the words "return to base," Wall's body trembled slightly.

He did not answer immediately, but slowly stood up, pushed open the cabin door, and walked onto the cold, windswept deck.

He looked up at the clouds in the sky.

At this moment, the sky above the sea was covered with dark clouds. Layer upon layer of black clouds, like heavy lead plates, completely blocked out the starlight and moonlight, plunging the whole world into a despairing darkness.

The oppressive weather perfectly matched Wall's heavy, conflicted, and even slightly desperate mood.

He frowned deeply, gripping the ship's railing tightly with both hands, his knuckles turning white from the force.

He remained silent, staring intently at the dark cloud, as if making a final stand against fate.

One minute, two minutes, three minutes —

Just as Wall's psychological defenses were about to completely collapse, and he was about to turn around and issue that humiliating order to return to base.

suddenly!

The thick, leaden clouds in the sky seemed to have been suddenly torn open by a pair of invisible giant hands.

A strong sea breeze swept by, quickly parting the clouds and revealing a bright, full moon that suddenly emerged from behind the clouds, instantly showering the entire dark sea with its silvery moonlight!

I see the bright moon again!

The next moment, under the cool moonlight.

Ten nautical miles away from the armed ship, deep in the thick fog belonging to the Siren's Anvil.

"call out-!!!"

A sharp, piercing sound suddenly tore through the silence on the sea.

A flare, flashing with light, shot through the layers of poisonous miasma with an extremely domineering and decisive force, like a shooting star going against the current, and soared straight into the sky!

"Bang!!!"

The signal flare exploded suddenly in mid-air, producing a deafening roar.

A dazzling firework, glowing with a pale red light, burst open in the sky above the Siren's Anvil, illuminating the island of death, which had been shrouded in darkness, in a fiery red!

In Wall's eyes, that pale red light was more dazzling than the most brilliant gem in the world.

Wall paused for a second.

Immediately afterwards, this usually stern and imposing second-tier Ripper suddenly turned around and slammed his hand hard on the solid wood table next to him!

"Bang!"

The sturdy table shattered into pieces with his slap, sending wood chips flying everywhere.

"Ha ha ha ha!!!"

Wall raised his head, looked at the bright moon, and let out three hearty laughs that shook the entire ship.

In that laughter, the pent-up frustration, worry, and fear that had been suppressed for so long were completely released at that moment.

"Good! Good! Good!"

Wall uttered three "good"s in a row, each word resounding as if proclaiming the Brotherhood's authority to the vast ocean.

Cook and Ceci, who were standing behind him, were completely stunned.

They stared wide-eyed at the faint red signal flare slowly dissipating in the distant sky, remaining silent for a long time.

"He really did it—" Ceci murmured to himself, his eyes filled with shock.

Cook swallowed hard, feeling his worldview being greatly shaken.

Ignoring their shock, Wall suddenly turned around, flicking the hem of his trench coat. His eyes, which had been filled with weariness, were now burning with fierce fighting spirit and endless killing intent.

He drew his sword, its blade pointing directly at the Siren's Anvil, and with all his might, roared a thunderous roar at the stunned crew on deck: "Everyone, listen up! Set sail!"

"Full sails! Cannons in position!"

"Target, the Sirens' Anvil! Crush them!!!"

At Vol's command, the once lifeless armed ship instantly came alive.

The sailors ran frantically across the deck, pulling on the ropes and raising the sails.

The gunners roared as they pushed the heavy cannons into firing positions and loaded them with ammunition.

The massive three-masted armed merchant ship, like a war behemoth awakened, cleaved through the waves and plunged headlong into the thick fog illuminated by pale red signal flares with an indomitable momentum.

The massive, armed merchant ship, like a steel behemoth tearing through the darkness, violently smashed through the layers of thick fog surrounding the Siren's Anvil as it was propelled by its full sails.

The heavy prow seemed to cleave through the dark waves, sending up white sprays several meters high.

On the deck, the cannon fuses were lit, and the gunners, shirtless and with their muscles taut, stared intently at the island that was gradually taking shape ahead, waiting for Lord Wall's order to unleash tons of steel and gunpowder.

However, when the ships actually entered the core bay surrounded by anti-submarine nets, the expected deafening shelling resistance did not occur.

The sea was eerily silent.

Apart from a few broken wooden boats adrift on the waves and the nauseatingly strong smell of blood in the air, this pirate stronghold that had plagued the Brotherhood for years was now as quiet as a giant floating tomb.

Wall stood at the bow, the wind whipping up his large black trench coat.

His sharp gaze swept over the pirate flagship, which was anchored in the harbor and whose deck was littered with severed limbs, like that of a hawk, and his brows furrowed slightly.

"Splash—"

"6

Just then, the water on the side of the armed merchant ship suddenly began to churn violently.

A dark shadow, like a sharp arrow cutting through the waves, suddenly darted out from the cold, dark grey water river and clung firmly to the edge of the boat.

"Over there! Someone's there!"

The sailors on deck instantly raised their muskets, the dark muzzles pointing straight at the side of the ship.

"Put the gun down!" Wall shouted, striding toward the ship's side.

The sailors quickly threw down the rope ladder.

With a splash, Xilun grabbed the rough hemp rope and nimbly flipped onto the deck in a few moves.

His precious sharkskin diving suit was tattered and torn in many places by sharp blades. Dark red blood mixed with gray-green seaweed dripped down the hem of his suit onto the deck.

His face was pale from the long descent and blood loss, but his eyes shone brightly in the night, revealing a terrifying killing intent that had not yet faded, like that of a ferocious beast from the abyss.

Xilun stopped, casually patted his shoulder, and tore off a few wet, slippery seaweed strands wrapped around his neck and threw them into the sea. His movements were as calm as if he had just done a trivial morning exercise.

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